


Swear Upon a Heartless Soul

by flammablehat



Series: Summerpornathon 2014 [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Bounty Hunters, F/F, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Bondage, Power Imbalance, Team Gluttony, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen's got a bond on her head from none other than Uther Pendragon, and Isolde has never met a wealthy banker's bond she didn't like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swear Upon a Heartless Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 7 - _The Five Senses_ of the 2014 season of Summer Pornathon. Beta provided by the lovely Lady Ragnell! Title from the song 'Not Alone' by Sara Bareilles.

Isolde’s favorite part of bringing in a bounty is the catch. There’s nothing quite like the thunder of hooves beneath her, bearing down fast on a runaway mark. 

This one is sly, but Isolde ropes her before she can dart down a sheer embankment. She hits the dirt hard in a scatter of pebbles and dust.

xxx

“‘Hup you get,” Isolde says, pushing her charge into the saddle. 

The girl has brown skin and a stormy look about her. Isolde supposes it’s earned. There’s not many would be happy to be caught by a bounty hunter. 

From her perspective, it’s a refreshing change to climb up behind such a pretty prize. Isolde is used to hauling trash — ugly, brutish debt-dodgers who are sodden with booze. She’s scrubbed enough vomit off of her tack to learn it’s easier to haul most catches on a long lead than toss them over her horse’s withers. 

But this girl fits neatly between her legs and the front of her saddle. Isolde lets her hands rest on the swell of her generous hips, kneading a bit with her fingers as they set off. She tries to get an elbow into Isolde’s side for the presumption, but she’s roped up good and proper and mostly just jerks her slim back into Isolde’s chest, puffing a whiff of sweat and cinnamony scent into her face. 

Isolde laughs, kicking them into a canter.

xxx

The advertisement calling for her capture only identified her as ‘the Smith girl.’ It neglected to mention she was a damn fool, running off into the desert in the middle of the night like she thought she had a chance of ending up anywhere but six feet under. 

By the time Isolde tracks her down she’s almost succumbed to the frigid night, shivering in a ball on the hard ground. Isolde carries her back to camp, peels the ropes from her chafed, bloodied wrists and wraps tight around her back until the heat loosens her into an exhausted slump. 

“Who are you?” Isolde whispers into her ear, burying her nose into the fragrant crease of her neck. “You fetch a fine price for a whore or kept woman, but you’re too much trouble to justify that kind of coin, no matter how juicy _this_ is,” she hisses, gripping her between the legs. It makes her groan and arch, opening more of her pretty neck to Isolde’s mouth. 

The desert is a hard and unforgiving environment and Isolde has long since grown hard and unforgiving within it. She’s unaccustomed to softness, and part of her is tempted to keep the girl just for the novelty of it. Isolde fills her free hand with tit and squeezes at the giving triangle of sex under homespun cotton dress, greedily inhaling the girl’s bready-sweet scent, rocking her hips against her rump. In that moment, if she could trade the whole bounty for a bed and soft cloths for her ropes, she’d call it a fair price and pay it gladly. 

As it is, she eventually drifts off with her face buried in velvety curls and her hands tucked under warm, plush curves.

xxx

She wakes to her own hands knotted under her back and a solid pressure on her chest. 

“Don’t get up now,” says a sweet voice. Isolde bucks, knocking the girl forward onto her hands. She sighs, sliding her hips down to pin Isolde properly, bringing them face to face. She has sparkling brown eyes. “I just wanted to thank you for untying me before I go. Here,” she adds, jamming Isolde’s knife in the dirt just above her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to leave you stranded after you saved me.” 

“How very kind,” Isolde says. The girl smiles. She shifts like she means to get up and Isolde lifts her knee, thigh sliding firm against her cunt, making her pause. 

“You half remind me of someone,” the girl says, running a gentle finger over Isolde’s eyebrow. Her hips circle thoughtfully against her thigh, teasing, before she gets to her feet and shakes out her dress. 

“I won’t go down for Uther Pendragon,” she says as she climbs onto Isolde’s horse. “But if you had a cause to look for me again, I might have a cause to be found. Ask for Gwen Smith.” She grins, circling the embers of their camp. “I won’t be looking over my shoulder.” 

Isolde laughs, letting her head fall back as the thunder of hooves dims. 

After all, her favorite part of bringing in a bounty is the catch.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Swear Upon a Heartless Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576804) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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